Reinke Faces Life

Forty One years ago today …

… on December 19, 1970, …

… in Saint Henry’s Church in Bayonne at about 11:30 in the morning, our lives changed.

“I, John, take thee Evlynn, to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy law; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

(I stuck the “troth” part in. My maternal Grandmother was an English Protestant. Father Chuamark deigned not to notice.)

(Explanation of “plight” and “troth”: “Plight” here used means to pledge. “Troth” means a promise of truthfulness, and is derived from the same word as “truth”. “Plight thee my troth” – The groom pledges his truthfulness, faithfulness and loyalty to his promise. “Give thee my troth” -The bride likewise gives her word. Also note “betrothed” is “be” – “trothed” from the word “troth”, meaning promised or contracted to marry.)

(Grandma explained that to me when was very young and I asked why my Mom and Dad weren’t together. I knew then that this ‘marriage stuff was serious business.)

“I, Evlynn, take thee John to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy law.”

(I’m surprised that whole Congregation didn’t have a collective gasp! Our Girl said: “obey”. I teased her about that later.)

It was a great party.

Great honeymoon.

But, she’d finally given in and married me. And, my life was forever hers.

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Humorous story: At the back of the church, Ev’s father asked her what was wrong with me. She didn’t know but said that I was the color of my shirt. When her hand was passed to me, she asked. I said “scared <synonym for excrement> less”. She said: “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of us.” And she did that.

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http://www.youthspecialties.com/articles/you-matter-to-your-spouse/

You Matter To Your Spouse

“And for this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be united firmly (joined inseparably) to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together let not man put asunder (separate).” Matthew 19:5-6, Amplified

*** begin quote ***

Just as you chose your spouse, you were also chosen. Out of the millions of other people in the world, two souls were linked together in holy matrimony because you couldn’t bear to be without each other for the rest of your lives. Your vulnerability in the marriage bed, your giving of yourself to passion and pleasure, and your desire matter to your beloved, too. Such things can only and should only be shared in the intimate bonds of marriage, and for that you have chosen one another. You share not only this mystery, but also your joys and sorrows, hearts and dreams, and vulnerabilities and transparencies. He or she is there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on and to laugh with you over nothing at all. You share a history, a love story, and a life that you travel together. Know that your companion is yours forever and that you matter deeply, profoundly, and intricately to your spouse.

*** end quote ***

Somehow this doesn’t help as the one who was left behind.

“Double Star” is a science fiction novel by Robert A. Heinlein, my favorite author, and there’s a line in there that goes something like “death is the only acceptable excuse for missing an appointment”.

So today, when Frau Reinke misses our forty first anniversary, she has an “acceptable excuse”.

But it doesn’t help much!

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Each day, I wake up looking for you …
… never to see again.

Each night, I sleep thinking of you …
… never to see again.

Each activity I do I wish for you …
… never to see again.

Ringing in my ears, your last words …
… “when will it be over”.

My response is still ever true …
… “soon my love, soon”.

All to true …
… I’ll see you “soon”.

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http://www.jamesaltucher.com/2011/10/7-things-i-learned-from-my-8-greatest-teachers/

7 Things I Learned from My 8 Greatest Teachers
Posted by James Altucher on October 16th, 2011

*** begin quote ***

Yesterday was my 25th high school reunion. I wanted to go. I had a car key and I could’ve driven there. I was close to feeling like I was going to do it. But I was feeling somewhat shy. I didn’t like high school much.

When you are rejected so much you build a tough skin. My 8 greatest teachers in life were perhaps the many girls in high school who said “no” to me when I was so desperate to go out with them. Who knows what would’ve happened to me if everything was easy then. Maybe I would not have been able to handle when things became really hard later.

*** and ***

What’s your worst rejection in high school?

*** end quote ***

Rejection?

That’s easy. I grew up in a NYC apartment and had huge crush on the girl who lived on my floor — Gabrielle. I’d time my exits for school to meet her to chat her up in the elevator. Ice in the winter. I’m sure I was even dorkier then. She shunned all my attempts to be polite with no explanation. Many times it was just an icy stare. Like I was <Expletive Deleted> Hannibal Lecher Lecter.

Fast forward to senior year in high school.

I had a car, a series of good paying part time jobs, a drinking problem, and a fairly lively social calendar. Hey, I had money and had no clue how to use it. The worm turned.

She needed a date for her senior prom after a bad break up with a cheating steady; who’d been her steady for all four HS years. Her Mom talked to my Mom. I was scheduled to be busy that night; prior plans. And I stuck to it.

Upon reflection, I was an ass.

I admit now (five decades later) that I could have done it for her. But payback’s a bitch. Looking back, I should have rearranged a mere “attendance at some drinking party” to save that gal’s self-image. She didn’t go to her prom and wasted all the money for it. I never looked back.

That first rejection maimed my self-confidence. And, I turned into the ISTJ I am today.

I found a beautiful young gal who’s arm I twisted to marry me. (She said “no” the first time I asked. Seriously!) And we spent 40 wonderful years before she passed. She made me a much better person than I was before I met her.

So now, I’m left with those shouldas, couldas, and wouldas! Those will kill you.

Maybe I should have taken her to the prom. I might have gotten lucky.

But then, I might have missed my soul mate.

Who can figure the “right” choices?

But I’ve never thought of those gals until now — Friday night Jane, Saturday night Virginia, Sunday Mass with Kissing Mary’s sister, and Sunday night with old what’s her name. All lost in the vestiges of time. They were nice girls to put up with my antics.

They had to know; why did they go?

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This reminds me of how my bad conduct almost messed up my relationship with the gal who eventually became Frau Reinke.

In my dogish days, I’d have several dates per week end. All with different girls.

(Yes, has hard as it is to believe, a young fat old white guy injineer at heart could have multiple gal pals. If you were polite, had money to spend, and demanded nothing other than a “wing girl” for these events, you too could lead the life. Reminds me of that “Sexless Innkeeper” episode of HIMYM!)

As a good Catholic boy, I well knew that the key to unplanned pregnancies is where you dipped you pen. No dipping; no ruined lives. (I had four aunts — three actual and one grand — who passed along that concept. And, somehow I missed the Free Love Sixties.)

So anyway, I brought my Saturday night date home and my car died outside her house. Her Dad, a Jasper, who knew I was “responsible” loaned me a spare car. So I could get home. The plan was to get my Gramps to come back on Sunday afternoon and get the bucket of bolts running.

But I had a date for Mass Sunday morning followed by breakfast with another girl.

Hmmm, at the time, I saw no “moral dilemma”.

Went on date. After date, Gramps followed my to Saturday Night’s house, he got the bucket of bolts running. All well and good.

P.S., Sold car on Monday to classmate. Bought new bucket of bolts, after Gramps’ approval, on Tuesday. So as to be ready for weekend whirlwind. Friday Red Garter with the eventual Frau Reinke, Saturday night with Daughter of Jasper. Sunday Mass with Kissing Mary. Sunday night with some other girl for some bar hopping.

When the eventually to be Frau Reinke asked about the car swap, I sort of retold the story. Now Our Girl had an exceptionally well defined “barbara streisand” — aka <synonym for male bovine excrement> — detector. Guess as a result of her bad break up. She pulled me outside the Red Garter and made me focus. (Amazing that late in the evening, I could focus.) She wanted the truth.

(This was before Jack Nicholson’s “You can’t handle the truth” soliloquy.)

Any way, she pointed out that if we were going to get serious — We are? I thought so. But I was playing it very kool — she wanted the truth. And, we could be steadies if I dumped all the other girls and stopped lying. — Who lied? I carefully told the literal truth and omitted any inconvenient “truths”. — Or, she was leaving to go home now. No, I couldn’t drive her home. And, no, I shouldn’t call any more. I was instantly sort of sober. So I caved and said “Steadies? That’s so Fifities High Schoolish!” She said: “Take it or leave it.”

I took it.

Next morning, I called all the other young ladies and cleared my calendar.

About 3PM, She called me and said “What time are you picking me up? Steadies go out on Saturday nights too. And, since your such a good Mass attender, you can now take me.” “Yes, toots. 6PM, OK?” “Fine. And, don’t call me toots.”

Funny now. But I almost blew it.

And, from time to time, I did call her “toots” just to annoy her.

Sigh!

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Our Girl had a special place in her heart for the children who t ‘n’ t ed.

She’d spend several hundred on candy, cards, and little baggies.

She “hired” the ‘phews to fill the bags and, when they outgrew the easy money, she sit and carefully do it. I was “fired” from helping because I was not meticulous enough in carefully placing one of each type of candy in each bag.

She had a special bowl for the neighbor’s children that had dollar bills in the bags.

On All Saint’s Day, the day after, the ‘phews would be sure to come over and un-mine the bags. She’d give them the “leftover” dollars for the help. (Easy money, for sure!)

To avoid a very painful evening, I’m absconding overnight to AC for dinner and the comedy club. While it will remind me of her and what we did in AC, even that last glorious trip last January when she was like old, it’s not as hard as seeing all the children.

Back tomorrow.

That’s All Saints’ Day and I’ll go pray for my personal “saint”; Tuesday is All Souls’ Day, and I’ll go again to pray for my personal “soul”.

Sadly!

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She was never a big fan of the movies. She’d go, but it’d have to be something really good.

New movies out … … “Mighty Macs”.

She told me all about the real Mighty Macs about the same time she explained the beauties of the pick and roll.

:-)

Makes me miss her even more.

If such was possible.

# – # – # – # – # 2011-Oct-20 @ 20:19

http://www.wnd.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=358585

A nice review.

# – # – # – # – # 2011-Oct-23 @ 21:27

http://rivals.yahoo.com/ncaa/womens-basketball/news?slug=dw-dementia_diagnosis_wont_stop_summitt_082311

Dementia diagnosis won’t stop Pat Summitt
By Dan Wetzel, Yahoo! Sports

*** begin quote ***

They’ve called Pat Summitt a groundbreaker, a legend, an inspiration and the “Wizard of Knoxville,” a nod to UCLA’s John Wooden, who may be the only college basketball coach who can compare.

*** end quote ***

Frau Reinke loved Coach Summitt. She saw herself in her, the way she played, and the way she coached. Her, and Coach Grentz, were in Our Girl’s personal HoF.

She’d be saddened by this news.

I’m not surprised at the lack of a “pity party”. Like Frau Reinke, all these gals are cut from a very unique cloth.

My prayers and good thoughts go out to Coach Summitt, her boy, and her family.

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I was enjoying an adult refreshment last night at a local establishment. (Shocking I know.)

Comcast’s Cable12 News will be doing a local segment on Friday at 5PM about Bayonne. Heartbroken for my “Bayonne Girl”. Good thing I don’t have cable, it’d make me sad. And, she would have gone to great lengths to see it.

I wonder how our lives would have been different was it not for Jimmy Carter’s gas crisis when I got out of the USAF. I was working in Piscataway and we were up in Bayonne. Even odd. We had even; her brother had odd. I’d go to work and she’d take the other car to wait on the gas line.

We had to move closer to my work.

Hence we left Bayonne and settled in North Brunswick. Soon after, she was diagnosed with diabetes by Doc Ron who was kool, Pragmatically, he reassured her to enjoy life.

She knew from her brother’s life experience what she was in store for. She took it like a trooper. Stoically.

I, on the other hand, was the typical Type A. I wanted confirmation. (Even though intellectually I knew that diagnosis was right.) I wanted her to go to Joslin. I wanted specialists. I wanted experts. I wanted action. I wanted a cure.

She mollified me by going to a Joslin program at Saint Barnabas. They were just a bundle of bad news (i.e., shortened lifespan to age 45 to 50, complications, blindness, infertility, other associated diseases, organ failures). Upon reflection, I can now understand why she just didn’t want to be bothered with it. She knew they were going to tell her bad stuff. But she went to humor me.

The gas crisis eventually ended. But we never moved back to Bayonne. Wonder how it would have been different if we had? Can I blame it all on Doctor Ron? And, maybe if we had done more it would have ended differently.

Yup, she’d have strangled me!

:-)

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